Rusted Rails

By Barry Jones

Rusted rails, to where, from where,
What hope, joy, drama and tragedy of lives past
Lay beyond those rusted rails.

"Rusted Rails' based on 1928, resurrects the now abandoned coal-mining town of Wilder, Tennessee. Life in these towns held little promise for the future. One family, that of David and Jenny Hughes, sought a way to keep their son out of the mines. However, their plan was jeopardized by David's untimely accidental death and Jenny's discovery that she carried her late husband's unborn child. With few options, Jenny chose abortion.

And so begins a gritty tale of turmoil, desperation, sex and violence...and of unexpected heroes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barry Jones
• Release date: Mar 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301836222

Barry Jones

Barry Jones was a Labor member of the Victorian and Commonwealth parliaments, led the campaign to abolish the death penalty, and became Australia’s longest-serving minister for science from 1983 to 1990. His books include Sleepers, Wake!, A Thinking Reed, Dictionary of World Biography, The Shock of Recognition, and, most recently, What is to be Done: political engagement and saving the planet. He received a Companion of the Order of Australia, Australia’s highest award, in 2014, and, at the age of 89, is a ‘living national treasure’.

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This work is copyrighted © 2013. Edward Barry Jones. All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of historical fiction based on life in the coal mining areas of the Cumberland Plateau of Tennessee in the late 1920’s. Locations are authentic as are the descriptions of the rail route and the town of Wilder. Real names are used where relevant, but words and actions of those characters are imaginary.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

Story Outline:

Rusted Rails

Rusted Rails is a work of historical fiction, based in the late 1920’s that resurrects the now abandoned coal-mining town of Wilder, Tennessee. Life in these mining towns was desperate with little promise for the future. One mining family, that of David and Jenny Hughes, sought a way to keep their youngest son out of the mines. Their plan was however, jeopardized by David's untimely, accidental death and, soon after, by Jenny's discovery that she was carrying her late husband's unborn child. With few options, Jenny chose an abortion.

Such operations, though common, were illegal and highly dangerous. Botched abortions were a significant cause of maternal death. But, with the help of Rose, a local prostitute, Jenny was connected to a healthcare group that promised a safe procedure. They did not know that the group was part of Al Capone’s crime syndicate.

Jenny abortion was initially successful, but she collapses on her way back to Wilder. Fearing exposure, Capone’s men carry her off to a secret location. Ted Hawkins, a reporter for the Nashville Tennessean, witnesses her abduction. He subsequently meets with Jenny’s distraught mother-in-law who persuades him to help find her daughter-in-law.

With the help of several Great War veterans and the fledgling FBI, Hawkins finally locates Jenny. So begins a thrilling adventure to rescue her.

Acknowledgements:

I would like to express my indebtedness to Mr. Jason Duke for the vast amount of information in his book, Tennessee, Coal Mining, Railroading and Logging in Cumberland, Fentress, Overton, and Putman Counties, Turner Publishing Co, Paducah, Ky.

I would also like to thank Mr. Robert Hultman, Vice President of the Tennessee Central Railway Museum, for my tour of their museum and for answering my many questions.

Also, Mr. Tim Tohill, Director of the Nashville Rape and Abuse Center for reviewing the manuscript for relevance and realism along with members of the Nashville Scribblers writing group.

Thank you Jane Sudderth, Betty Anderson, Patsy and Herman Lawson and my wife Mary for a hilarious afternoon over a couple of bottles of wine, converting my British-tinged dialog into East Tennessee speech. Now that was fun! Thank you also Patsy, for the delicious lunch. I am also very grateful to my friends who helped guide my efforts and corrected my errors. In particular, my thanks to Sue Dewitt Jones, my daughter in law, and her mother Jeane Dewitt, Jane Sossaman and her friend, ex FBI Special Agent Dick Callahan.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Story Outline: Rusted Rails

Acknowledgements:

Chapter 1: The Way Out - Sunday Oct 7th 1928

Chapter 2: Fentress Colliery, Mine # 3 - Earlier that same day

Chapter 3: The Davidson Hotel - Later that same day

Chapter 4: An Unlikely Ally - Monday Oct 8th

Chapter 5: Scouting the abortion trail - Tuesday October 9th

Chapter 6: Return to Nashville - Wednesday Oct 10th

Chapter 7: The Tennessean Newsroom, Nashville - Friday Oct 12th

Chapter 8: Monterey Rail Depot - Tuesday Oct 16th

Chapter 9: A Revealing Sign - Thursday October 18th

Chapter 10: Involving Pinkerton - Friday October 20th

Chapter 11: The Imperial Hotel, Monterey - Thursday Oct 25th

Chapter 12: Aerial Reconnaissance - Saturday October 27th

Chapter 13: Scouting the Cumberland Plateau - Sunday October 28th

Chapter 14: The New Operation - Tuesday October 30th

Chapter 15: Offices of the Tennessean - Thursday November 1st

Chapter 16: The Andrew Jackson Hotel, Nashville - Friday November 2nd

Chapter 17: Monterey, Tennessee - Saturday November 2nd

Chapter 18: Davidson Hotel - Sunday November 3rd

Chapter 19: Windsor Hotel, Johnson City - Monday November 4th

Chapter 20: The Following Day - Tuesday, November 5th

Chapter 21: Crucial Calls - Wednesday November 6th

Chapter 22: Confrontation - Thursday November 7th

Chapter 23: Reunion - Friday, November 8th

Epilogue: A true account of subsequent events.

References:

Photo Credits:

About the Author

Chapter 1:

The Way Out, Sunday Oct 7th 1928

It’s my ma! My ma’s comin’! the young boy yelled excitedly on hearing the distant blast of a locomotive’s steam horn. See, he continued, pointing down the valley You can see the smoke. They’s using two engines to bring the train up the mountain. I bet it’s a 4-8-2, Number 553 maybe." The boy was pointing to twin plumes of grey black smoke in the distance, evidence of the intense effort of the engines in mounting the steep grade.

Your grandson is pretty knowledgeable, Mrs. Hughes, commented the Depot Master to an elderly woman waiting on the platform beside him. We are using the new 553 on the Monterey run now, and that’s an old Baldwin 4-6-0 helping pull her up Cub Mountain.

Oh, Jeffrey’s a real smart child. I don’t know what them numbers mean, but Jeffrey’s plumb crazy bout trains. Not ‘shamed about that. No sir, it helps take his mind off his pa.

I was really sorry to hear about your son, Mrs. Hughes. Too many bad accidents down the mines these days. Too many good men being killed and injured. And I understand that there’s no compensation either. It’s not surprising that there’s talk of a walk out, the Depot Master replied.

Hope it don’t come to that. A lot of violence comes with strikes. Just wish the owners would be more ‘greeable. They’re not short of a dollar or two. She turned to admonish her grandson, who had come bounding up towards her. Jeffrey! Calm down. Your ma will be here soon enough.

Naturally, the boy did not respond, but became more excited as the engines came closer to the station. The rhythmic, pulsating throb of the steam pistons drifted up the valley, softly at first, but then with gradually increasing intensity. The sound was joined by a deep-throated blast of the lead locomotive’s steam horn, as if to announce the train’s pending arrival although it was still several miles distant.

Among the passengers on that train was Edward Hawkins, a forty-five year old reporter for the Nashville Tennessean. He was a small, dapper man with a prematurely lined face reflecting a life with more than its share of concerns and trouble. He had returned from service in the Great War to a nation racked with a pandemic of influenza, a scourge that had taken his young wife. After an initial period of bitterness, he was now resigned to his lot. He had become a compassionate man, one who sought to help others as best he could. His employers and immediate editors recognized these traits and often assigned the man to cover stories of hardship and despair. Such situations were common in this year of 1928 in spite of the apparent boom times and gaiety. His current assignment certainly met those criteria. He was to write a series of articles about the desperate lives of coal miners and their families.

He had boarded the train at the Tennessee Central Railway’s Nashville terminal on Front Street adjacent to the Cumberland River. The wooden structure was in stark contrast to the grandiose Union Station a few blocks to the west, home to the Louisville and Nashville railroad company. It was a Sunday excursion train taking passengers out into the forest area of the Upper Cumberland Plateau, north of the town of Monterey. The fall colors were exceptionally radiant this October, given the near perfect conditions of plentiful moisture and cool, frost-free nights. A number of his fellow passengers were day trippers, with no luggage with them – mostly young families with excited children.

We’re goin’ to have a picnic, one bubbly young girl announced to no one in particular. My paw says we’re goin’ to get off in Obey City and walk up to Hanging Limb. Why’s it named that? she asked.

That’s where they throw a rope over a branch and hang the bootleggers and mean little girls like you, an older boy replied.

Maw! cried the girl.

Thomas. Stop aggravating your sister, the children’s mother said sternly.

Hawkins smiled at that exchange, recollecting the times when, as a boy, he had tormented his little sister. But not everyone shared in the moment. At group of ten to twelve men seated a little in front of him maintained their stoic silence. The reporter wondered about them. They had hardly spoken since the train left the Nashville terminus. A somber group, they were dressed in dark, rough clothes. Their tieless shirts buttoned tightly up to the chins contrasted with the jaunty bow tie atop a fresh white shirt that Hawkins sported. Their hatless heads also stood apart from Hawkins’s jaunty flat cap, and they looked conspicuously out of place aboard a holiday excursion train.

I suppose I don’t really fit either, Hawkins thought to himself. Nor do those two tired-looking flapper girls who boarded the carriage just after I did.

An intriguing pair, he mused. One was a relatively short, very attractive girl in her mid-twenties, with jet-black hair slicked down over her ears in the fashion of the day. She wore a rumpled but stunning red silk dress angled across the top, leaving one shoulder bare. The skirt was cut several inches above her knees and adorned with a black fringe. Very fetching, thought Hawkins. Very fetching indeed. Her companion was significantly less elegant, having a much larger frame, and her bosom was clearly evident in spite of the attempt to minimize her breasts. She wore a tight blue dress accentuated with a black scarf. She was passably attractive, just not Hawkins’ type. Not that I have a type, thought Hawkins as his thoughts strayed to his lonely, work-filled existence. The girls seemed not the least bit interested in Hawkins. The girl in blue steadfastly stared out of her window throughout the trip while the girl in red slumped onto her companion’s shoulder and fell asleep.

Monterey next stop, ladies and gentlemen! intoned the carriage’s conductor. Monterey coming up! There’ll be a short delay here as we attach another engine to take us up the ridge to the high plateau!

Hawkins wondered if the surly group would disembark, but they gave no indication they were preparing to do so. The train with warning bells clanging pulled into the station and slowed to a stop. The conductor again announced that they had arrived at Monterey. He lowered the window of the right hand front exit door and stepped out onto the platform, bringing with him a set of portable steps, which he placed down beside the exit. Nobody got off, but several casually dressed travelers he assumed to be more day-trippers, did climb into the carriage. The conductor then called out the names of the next stations up the line.

Obey City next stop then Crawford, Highland Junction and Wilder. Stay on the train for Davidson. We stop there on the return journey.

That must be the spur that takes off from Highland Junction, thought Hawkins.

The train and its passengers sat quietly for a while. Hawkins glanced over to his left and saw through the carriage windows that their stop was adjacent to the Imperial Hotel. The building was a fairly plain, two story, red brick structure with its name painted in tall broad white letters across the frontage. Its inelegant appearance belied its luxurious interior. Hawkins would have loved to have lodged there for the duration of his stay in the Putnam, Overton and Fentress county region. The hotel had an excellent reputation, among the best for many miles around, until one came into the Knoxville and Nashville suburban areas. The hotel’s reputation was bolstered by its occasional clientele, most notably the local and national hero, Sergeant Alvin York. He had won a Congressional Medal of Honor following his action during the Meuse-Argonne offensive in France in 1918. Hawkins had hoped to have interviewed him when he returned to Tennessee, but that assignment had been awarded to one of the front line news reporters. My beat, thought Hawkins, seems to be just human interest stories.

The passengers were momentarily stunned by an abrupt jolt and loud bang.

Just hooking up the lead engine, called the conductor leaning into the carriage. We’ll be off soon.

Sure enough, within a minute or so came the conductor’s traditional call.

All aboard! All aboard! He began to help the passengers climb into the carriage, but there seemed to be some momentary confusion. Hawkins couldn’t see exactly what had occurred, but a person sitting close to a window said he thought a lady on the platform had fainted. The woman was helped into the waiting room and, when it became apparent that she would not be boarding the train, the conductor swept up the portable steps and closed the door.

With a loud whoosh of steam, the train jerked into movement. Slowly, it edged out of the station.

What’s that? questioned a young girl looking at a large oval shaped rock atop a stone pedestal.

That’s the Standing Stone, replied the conductor. Used to be thirteen foot high, but folks have whittled it down to about eight foot. We believe that it marked the boundary between the Cherokee and Shawnee hunting grounds. That’s who used to live here before the settlers arrived. Some still do live hereabouts, but it’s all peaceful now.

The train began to pick up speed. This would be the fastest part of the journey, close to the maximum twenty mile an hour allowed. The speed would be drastically reduced when the steep sections were broached. Overall, the nearly twenty one mile journey from Monterey to Wilder would take almost two and a half hours, an average speed of just a little over eight miles per hour. That was still better than an automobile could manage rattling along the rutted, pitted road up to the plateau.

It’s pretty slow going up especially going over Cub Mountain just north of Crawford, but it’s much faster coming back down, the conductor told them.

The first section of the line meandered through rolling pasture land, mostly given over to dairy farming. Gradually, as they progressed further east, more and more hardwood trees impinged on the grassland until, by the time they approached their first stop at Obey City, the area was totally forested. Some evidence of mining was seen in this, the first of the coal towns, albeit a small one.This was the home to the East Fork Coal and Coke Company, but the exposed workings did little to mar the beauty of the place.

The train stopped briefly at Obey City. The family of picnickers got off and asked the conductor for the time when the train could pick them up on the return.

It’s just about 10:50 now. We’re scheduled to be back at Obey at 4:50. Please be on time. We don’t want to wait around for you as some of the passengers will be connecting in Monterey for the 5:45 fast train to South Harriman.

The family assured the conductor that they would be on time and with that, the train turned northward and began its climb up to Crawford.

It was a spectacular journey. Initially, the train skirted the left bank of the Obey River - East Fork, a deep gorge, part of the area that some described as the Grand Canyon of Tennessee. The dense forest of maples, oaks and hickory was interspersed with rock outcroppings overhanging the deep, dark river. The leaves at this altitude were just beginning to turn. They would be at their peak at the higher elevation of the plateau.

The track abruptly left the river at the hamlet of Lovejoy and turned due north to begin its uninterrupted climb through Bostock, past Hanging Limb and up into Crawford. Here, evidence of coal was plentiful as numerous companies mined the town and its environs, mostly notably the Brier Hill Collieries. Beyond Crawford was Cub Mountain. The engines struggled mightily during this climb. At the summit, the lead Baldwin locomotive gave a prolonged blast of its steam horn as if proud of its accomplishment.

She always does that. commented the conductor It’s a tradition. Also lets Wilder know we’ll be there in about twenty minutes.

This was the blast that Jeffrey, waiting at the Wilder train depot, had heard.

The last leg of the journey, as the train again picked up speed over the slight upward slope, surprised Hawkins. The track crossed a seemingly never ending array of small bridges and trestles carrying the train over numerous streams and gullies. The almost rhythmic whoosh and clatter as the train seemingly alternated between the bridges and trestles, was almost hypnotic.

We got thirty six of these, announced the conductor as they crossed over one of the trestles. We’d never have been able to follow this route without them.

With another blast of a steam horn, this time from the newer 4-8-2 engine, the train rolled through Highland Junction as it neared Wilder. It would stop at this station on the way back for fueling and watering. Hawkins could see the large water tower and the coal bunkers alongside the track. The side spur leading to Davidson just a few miles to the north was also clearly visible. Less than half a mile farther was the Wilder Depot.

Along with Jeffrey and his grandmother, others were also awaiting the trains’ arrival. One, a heavy set middle aged man, approached the elderly woman.

Evening Mrs. Hughes. I saw you at the meeting this morning.

Evening to yourself, Pastor. Yea, I was at the meetin’. Your sermon was awful good but you’re a little hard on the women and the decisions we got to make, she replied somewhat coldly.

The man, Pastor Ethan Williams, the part time nonresident minister of the Boyer’s Chapel community church in Wilder, looked gravely at the woman. "There’s many ways to sin. I can only tell you God’s will and

Reviews for Rusted Rails

[lizasarusrex · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book sets place in the 1920's in Wilder, Tennessee. This was a time of the Industrial Revolution. The town, and the railroad were all being built up during this time period. The author uses real places and real historical facts incorporated in his writing which makes it interesting and enjoyable to read, because you're learning something along with a fictional story line as well. There were quite a bit of non-fiction information that side-tracked me from the plot of the story that I thought would be the main focus of the story.The fictional part of this story was about the life of Jenny Hughes who is a recent widow, pregnant and, left alone with four children. She seeks out the help of Rose, who is a prostitute, with finding a way to abort the child in her womb. Things go seriously wrong when Jenny goes missing after the procedure, and is last seen with a mysterious reporter. Not only is this case blown out of the water, because of the kidnapping, but also because of the abortion she had when she was last seen.There is an investigator named Ted who is looking into the whereabouts of where Jenny might have gone, leaving here four children behind. Rumors have it she might have gotten mixed up with the mob, or maybe even something much worse. Ted questions a variety of people with every intention of finding Jenny and brining her home safely.With the combination of non-fiction and fiction, this story really came to life. It felt so real and interesting and kept me on the edge of my seat trying to figure out what could have possibly happened to Jenny, and why! While reading about the mystery of what happened to Jenny, your learning about the Industrial Revolution, which makes it that much more interesting. I would rate this book a 5/5. Everything about this book was enjoyable, and entertaining which blew me away. I enjoyed it greatly.